"Are ye going to stay sober all night, laddie?"

Legolas looked down at his bearded friend.

"Don't tell me ye are the only elf that doesn't drink!" Gimli said.

"The celebration has only just begun. There is still time."

Gimli held up his mug and swirled the drink around.

All Legolas could see was the top layer of foam. He frowned. Definitely is not wine. "And you wish for me to drink that?"

"No." Gimli smiled mischievously. "I dare ye to."

Legolas stood up and walked towards the man at the counter, who was filling mugs with liquid from the large barrels. "I shall take one."

The man set his own drink down. "How large?"

"Ask for a few pints!" Gimli hollered.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. He walked over to one of the barrels and peered into it.

The bartender looked at him quizzically before breaking into a full-bellied laughed. "'Tis ale, not poison!" He grabbed a mug and began filling it up. "But start with one anyway before you decide on listening to your friend there." There was no response, but the man took it as a yes. When the ale reached the brim of the mug, he turned around. But the elf's attention was no longer on the ale. It was on the fairy-like creature that had just entered into their makeshift tavern. Her looks and stature gave the suggestion of a young maiden, but her reputation proceeded her, and the man knew better. Fresh battle scars gave tribute to the time she fought with the men at Helm's Deep. She walked with the purpose of a warrior and the grace of a woman. The man set the ale aside.

Legolas stared at Estelwen, remembering how they first had met. The mysterious maiden at the Mirkwood ball was cautious, beautiful, and slightly timid though she was brave enough to ask him to dance. At that time, he could not help but feel fond and protective of her innocence and joy. However, the woman that now entered the room commanded much more than his sword and his attention. He forced himself to break from the spell-like aura and walk towards her.

Aragorn had reached her first. "Estelwen, how do you feel?"

"I am better, thank you." She fondly stroked the ivory dress that Éowyn was gracious to lend her. Her ebony hair, which now fell to her shoulder blades, stood out against the light dress. The wispy layers and elbow length sleeves made her feel both elegant and comfortable. She promised to take good care of this one.

"Glad you decided to come. Make sure you enjoy yourself."

Estelwen smiled, thankful that he did not ask what caused her change of mind. She would not know how to answer. Her heart sped up as she sensed Legolas coming her way. When he was only an arm's length from her, she finally looked at him.

The two stared, both in awe, both with questions of their own.

Aragorn, now feeling certain why Estelwen decided to come, returned to his seat. The lively music began, summoning couples up from their seats to dance.

Legolas felt as if the world was transforming every moment, as if everyone was made of shapes and air, but Estelwen was the sharpest being in sight, cutting through his world like the rarest of diamonds, changing it so it would never be the same again. Legolas struggled to break from her spell-like gaze. He held out his hand. "Lle merna salk?"

Estelwen slid her hand into his. "It would be my pleasure."

He led her into his arms and twirled her onto the center of the floor. For a moment, Estelwen wondered if this would be as enchanting as their first dance in Mirkwood. She was reminded by the mugs banging on the wooden tables and the loud, deep laughter that they were not at an elven ball. After one last twirl, Legolas pulled her close and she gazed into his soul. It left her breathless. She realized that in Mirkwood, she had been enraptured by the ethereal atmosphere and the handsome stranger who had claimed her last dance. Legolas was no longer a stranger. His strength and skills never ceased to amaze her, but she now knew of the burdens he had carried with him for centuries. They each fought for the same things – for peace, families, and the survival of Middle Earth – yet they were different. He was strong, consistent, and calm like a forest. If he had a change of mind, it was slow and steady. She was spontaneous, and stayed open to the call of her heart. It had taken a while for her to realize that it was not always the most considerable way to act. The lives of many were at stake and she needed to consider the wisdom of her friends before making drastic decisions. She shook her head at herself, thinking how she had run off to protect the villagers without telling anyone. She should have had let Legolas, Aragorn, or one of them know regardless of what they would have told her. It would not have changed her decision, but at least they would have known that she was not running away or dead.

Legolas noted her action of disapproval. "Is there something wrong?"

"Yes," she said quietly, not letting go of his arms.

He stopped dancing, but continued to hold her.

She took a deep breath. "How can you bear to be so open and trusting? I have been so foolish. There are few who deserve to befriend...but least of all-"

Her doubts were silenced by his kiss. When he met her lips, her first instinct was to pull back, but he held her. She could not see the truth; she felt it. He means this. She closed her eyes and melted into his touch. His hand trailed her cheekbone and he deepened the kiss. Upon parting, he touched his forehead to hers. She kept her eyes closed, feeling his arm around her waist and her heart beating out of her chest. This closeness with him, it overpowered everything else. Her head spun around. She barely registered him asking her if she would like to sit down. She nodded, keeping her hand on his arm.

Legolas led her to sit at a table near Aragorn and Gandalf, who were in deep conversation. Estelwen turned her ear to them, and Legolas knew she was listening.

Aragorn quietly asked Gandalf, "What does your heart tell you?"

"It tells me...that Frodo and Sam are alive."

Aragorn did not miss the anxiety in Gandalf's voice. "What else does your heart tell you?"

He sighed. "That the fires of Mount Doom are not without their guardian."

"The guardian. It is no legend?"

Gandalf nodded. "Anorath was called out of Isengard before the Ents attacked it. It would not have been for some minor purpose. His Dark Master desired for him to return to his post."

"Anorath is the mountain's guardian?" Aragorn looked to the side, wandering in thought. "And was there. For all these years..."

Gandalf shook his head. "It is no wonder we thought him long gone. We must do our part while we can...and have faith in Frodo and Sam."

Everything came rushing back to Estelwen. She rose quickly, though a bit unsteadily. "Legolas, I...you must excuse me while I retire. I...I do not feel well."

He reached out to help her. "I will walk you there."

"There is no need." She smiled. "Really, I am fine."

He watched her uncertainly as she briskly walked out. Was it what Gandalf had revealed about Anorath? Or was it the kiss? He watched her walk outside towards her chambers. She should be alright tonight.

Gimli hollered at Legolas to come over. Reluctantly, Legolas walked over to Gimli's table. Two full mugs were set before them. Legolas picked his up. "It this a drinking game?"

Gimli laughed. "Last one standing wins!" He started chugging the ale.

Legolas looked at the mug a moment longer before raising it to his mouth.

*****

Once she was far enough from the tavern, Estelwen felt all the emotions hurling into her: anxiety, fear, love, hate. She nearly screamed as she ran and stumbled into the Hall. At the doorway of her chambers, she stopped. Her swords lay in the corner of her room in their dusty sheaths. She closed her eyes. How could she have been so shallow, so selfish? She had forgotten about Frodo and Sam. Anorath leaving her alive now felt like a mockery. Someone else was going to die in her place. If Anorath was anywhere near Mount Doom, there would be no hope for the hobbits.

Her hand rose to touch her lips. She still felt Legolas' kiss.

A kiss.

A key.

It opened the doors to feelings she never thought would surface, to visions she never decided to linger on. In her mind flashed white dresses and couples watching their children playing in the fields. She gasped. That was what Legolas deserved, someone who would have that life with him. And it could not be her. She had a responsibility, a destiny to fulfill: one that had to be taken care of at all costs, even if it demanded her life. With a cloth, she reached over and wiped the dust off her sheaths. Anorath needed to be encountered and killed. He must be stopped. She changed out of the ivory material into a garb she could sleep in. Éowyn's dress now lay on a stool, looking like it might vanish into thin air at any given moment.

Estelwen clutched at her chest. No one, not Elrond, Lord Daurion, or even Lady Galadriel, had been able to prepare her for this. Ever since she had last spoken to Galadriel, everything about her destiny felt right and clear. That is, until now.

It burned inside to think of what she had to do. She decided that it was better if she forgot that tonight, that their kiss, had ever happened.